Brother Avengers

Brother Avengers Chapter 20

For this chapter, I listened to "Requiem for a Tower," followed by "The Chronicles of Narnia The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe Soundrack-The Battle."

Chapter 20

"My brothers!

I see in your eyes the same fear

That would take the heart of me!

A day may come when the courage of men fails,

When we forsake our friends

And break all bonds of fellowship,

But it is not this day.

An hour of wolves

And shattered shields

When the age of men comes crashing down,

But it is not this day.

This day we fight!

By all that you hold dear
On this good earth

I bid you stand,

Men of the West!"

- Return of the King

Fandral had always been an optimist. He enjoyed the art of war—the flashing, deadly dance of battle—and he was good at it. For eons, time and again, he, Thor, Volstaag, Hogun, Sif and Loki had plunged headlong into the most impossible skirmishes and emerged victorious. He had never believed in no-win situations, never given credence to the idea that one day he would ride into battle and not come home.

Until tonight.

Heimdall had warned the All-Father that an attack was coming—that the Skrull armies were advancing on Asgard from two directions: one from Midgard via bifrost, the other from the sky via spacecraft. The All-Father, with deep regret, had been forced to acknowledge that his age and weariness would not permit him to lead the charge against the ground attack. In his stead, he had placed the mighty Heimdall at the head of the gleaming Aesir army, with Volstaag, Hogun and Fandral as his generals, each in command of a legion.

Heimdall had told all of Asgard what was happening to the princes and Jane and Sif down on Midgard. Thus, it was with silence and sick hearts, rather than their usual banter and cheer, that the Warriors Three had girded up for battle. Then, they had ordered the constructing of healing tents in the rear, and the preparation of the palace for siege—and the armies of Asgard had marched out, their armor and blades gleaming in the sun.

The foot soldiers had marched first, spears erect, banners fluttering, followed by the rumbling cavalry. Fandral rode at the head of the Illustrious Third—the oldest division in the army, the one Odin had led into battle against the Frost Giants on Midgard ages ago.

As the golden afternoon light had turned to orange and the birds had ceased their singing, the army came to a halt at the edge of the Fields of Elheimmer—a wide open space of green, where the wind blew their hair and cloaks and the sky opened up. The golden towers of Asgard City stood at their backs; thick, thorny forest to their right and left, and the Silver Stairs mountain range on the other side. It was the only place for the Skrulls to land an army—the rest of the land around the palace was either too rugged, too forested or too well-fortified. This field was Asgard's weak point.

All through the night, the army had stood, waiting wordlessly, the only sounds being the jingle of harnesses, the clink of armor, and the wind through the tall grass.

Then, at midnight, when the full moon hung directly overhead...

They had come.

In a billow of green, reeking smoke, hordes of Skrull warriors had materialized opposite the Aesir army. Their scaly skin, yellow eyes and sharp armor gleamed in the pale lunar light—they gnashed their teeth and howled insults, brandishing wicked weapons. Their ranks extended from one side of the field to the other, and Fandral could not see the end of them. And at their head stood a metal man in a long cloak, and a red-headed woman in black leather.